Gift of The Fallen Angel
by Ididntdoit07
Summary: A mashup of Season 6 and Season 12. When Sam returned from Hell, he brought something extra back with him, the life of a Nephilim, and will do anything in his power to convince Heaven, Hell and hardest of all, his brother, that he is still able to create something good. I suck at summaries. Mpreg , pregnant Sam


Hell was dark.

It was all he knew since he fall. He was sat in the darkness, his back propped against something cold an hard, he had no idea what. Death was certain, he knew he was no longer among the living, nothing human could have survived that fall. But was he entirely sure this was Hell? From what his brother had described two years back, this was different, empty.

Sam Winchester felt his skin crawl at the idea of Lucifer locked inside with him, since entering the pit he believed he was alone, even so much as forgetting about the fallen archangel he presumed was locked somewhere inside with him as well as his late younger brother. The emptiness grew heavy on his mind, fear of becoming as tainted as the devil was as deep as the fear of being locked in eternity with that same being…

But if this truly was Hell, it could be worse.

" _I know you won't. I know you won't say yes to Michael, either. And I know you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here. I win. So, I win…."_

" _You're wrong."_

" _See you in five years, Dean."_

" _This thing goes our way and I triple-lindy into that box. You know, I'm not coming back."_

" _So you gotta promise me something. You gotta promise not to try to bring me back."_

" _What? No, I didn't sign up for that."_

" _You don't have a choice."_

" _You can't ask me to do this."_

" _I'm sorry, Dean. You have to."_

" _So then what am I supposed to do?"_

It had been a year and still Dean Winchester felt the longing tugging at his heart. Ben and Lisa were enough to distract him from the road he had always known, side by side with his little brother in the passenger seat. A month after Detroit, Dean occupied his schedule with filling in the cracks of his picket white fence, tending to the fescue lawn he had always dreamed of. He had picked up hours at the construction site, afterwards grabbing drinks with a few neighbors at the local Applebees. Every morning he would brew a pot of coffee, pack Ben's lunch and drive him to school in his Ford250 listening to early talk shows, and pick up the paper on his way home where Lisa would be waiting with his breakfast and on the weekends Dean would wash the truck and vacuum whatever crumbs Ben would drop between the seats, organize the SnapOn tool chest Lisa had bought him for Christmas in the garage and spend the nights cuddled with her on the couch and snore as she caught up on her HGTV specials. For nearly his whole life, it was all Dean Winchester wanted, but without his Sam, life was not the same.

It was one breezy September morning when Dean was hoovering forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth that he came across a familiar headline on the front page in bold letters.

 **FULTON WOMAN KILLED IN FREAK ACCIDENT  
AT DOWNTOWN TRICK AND NOVELTY STORE**

He had work in an hour, and had seen many headlines just like it in the national paper the previous year, usually folding the pages over and skipping to the Business and Entertainment section on page 4B. This morning was different. It was the first day of a cool, sunny breeze announcing autumn had finally come, he was in good spirits, and he had respected Sam's wishes this long. What harm was there in going around just to ask a few questions? Sam would approve…. He thought.

It took him ten minutes to comb his hair, fix his tie and pack the truck with a duffle, kissing Lisa on the way out and fibbing that he had a job interview. He started the ignition, the roar of the engine pumping his heart with adrenaline, switching channels on the FM radio to the final chorus of Fortunate Son and cranking the volume as he tore out of the drive way, nearly hitting Lisa's Camry, and putting pedal to the metal as Lisa dashed out the front door.

"Dean, what about work?!"

He had made it downtown in less than half an hour, parking the truck at a meter and grabbing the pistol out of his glovebox and his one remaining FBI badge- It was then that he remembered his 11 to 9 job at the construction of the new grocery store and it was already 10:49. Choosing his fate for the day and accepting the expected dock off his paycheck, he stuffed the gun and badge into his lapels and exited the car.

Fulton police marked off the story cubby, onlookers brown nosing across the street as they ate their craft pizza.

He ducked under the crime scene tape, immediately stopped by a blonde officer with a bun. "Sir, you can't-"

"Agent Morrison, FBI." He showed her a flash of his badge not even bothering to get a good look as Dean usually would as he entered the shop, a parade of at least a dozen officers and detectives interviewing witnesses, repeating his forged name loud enough for all to hear.

"Thought you guys had already left town." A short officer in a rimmed hat approached him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yeah, one of your buddies dropped in about noon yesterday. Big tall guy, right Davidson? What was his name… Uh, Agent Robert Dylan I believe. Ring a bell?"

Dean couldn't even swallow, the crime scene no longer mattered to him. "You said he was tall?"

"Yeah, few inches taller than you, long hair pretty boy type. Does your agency typically hire their recruits from Vanity Fair?"

Dean gave a fake smirk, hiding the anxiety and shock behind his gruff voice. "That's very kind of you, could you tell me where Dylan said he was staying?"

"Fairgrounds Inn on 5th Street, just a few blocks down but he said he would be gone by…"

Dean was already out the door.

It couldn't have been Sam. It couldn't have, the last he saw of his brother was jumping into the pit with a ticket straight to hellfire for eternity. He went straight down the boulevard, signs of 3rd and 4th street looming in the distance.

He jogged the final block, bounding up the steps to the wooden inn and bee lining straight for the concierge. "Excuse me, Agent Morrison, I believe my partner was staying with you this weekend, know where I can find him?"

The petite brunette in pink teardrop glasses loomed under his shadow, clearly awestruck. "Uh, uh Agent Dylan checked out at about 8 this morning…"

Dean sighed heavily running a palm over his mouth.

"But he did leave his card."

The number rang 6 times and picked up to an automated voicemail box with an annoying tone.

"Sam? Is this you? It's Dean, give me a call… You know where I am."

And Dean saw him.

He was towering nearly a complete ten inches over the lunch crowd. His coppery brown hair was much longer than he had remembered, tickling his collar and flowing in the breeze over the same army green corduroy jacket and navy flannel left untucked from his acid wash jeans that had seen every battle and drop of blood the same as had Dean's. That's when their green eyes met—Dean didn't even believe he was still breathing. It was Sam. His face appeared as if it had aged five years in the twelve months he had been absent, a stubble maturing the young face he had once known, but it was still his Sam, their gaze locked and exchanging a thousand words as the two stood in awe.

"Sammy?!"

The form of his brother shook his mess of hair, and twisted on his heel as he turned away!

"Wh—Sam!"

He stepped out into the road, a minivan screeching to a halt to avoid hitting the dumbstruck pedestrian in a suit, and an angry middle aged woman yelled out her window berating him for not looking both ways. Dean waved her off, jogging across the two lanes before his hunter senses kicked in.

Having led an imperfect life full of twists and turns, he readied himself for the inevitable truth as he returned to his truck, snatching the entire 'hunter-on-the-go' duffle bag and swinging it over his shoulder, not even bothering to lock the vehicle as he retraced his steps.

Sam, or whatever it was impersonating Sam wouldn't be difficult to find, and there he was around the corner street, walking casually as if he were waiting for Dean to catch up.

A trap.

As soon as he fell in line with his 'brother's' footsteps, Sam moved faster, hands tucked in his pockets and determined to lure the rusty hunter wherever he wished.

He reached the final block of the small town, veering off to the right and into the grass.

Sam was trying to get him alone, and thankfully was not in any particular hurry to turn on Dean, giving him the perfect amount of time to ready the flask of holy water and silver blade in his palm. He trudged through the bushes and over the town's abandoned train tracks and landmark red steam engine rusted into the rails.

Dean followed him over the tracks and gravel, locating a small abandoned railroad construction office left for its history. Sam disappeared suddenly around the side of the locomotive, as if he had dissolved into thin air.

"Sam?" Dean readied the pearl grips of his silver Colt, shocked by the weight in his hands that had been absent for nearly a year.

There was a shift of gravel behind him, he twisted around—his grasp intercepted by a larger set of hands and body that collided with his and attempted to wrestle the gun from his hands.

Dean sacrificed the hold on his pistol, and greeted the form of Sam with a splash of holy water, the body already beginning to sizzle and his brother's form backed off.

"Shit—Dean!"

Dean was already ontop of him, cracking his knuckles against the jawline of Sam, the impact throbbing in his hand. Damn, he was rusty….

"Dean, stop! Dean-" He put up his hands in defense, his familiar deep voice laced with submission as he had no intention to fight.

The older hunter had already sat onto of his chest, pressing the silver blade under Sam's chin, pressing into his airways.

"I know how this looks, but I'm not a demon—Not a shapeshifter either…"

"Oh yeah, cause you seem pretty allergic to holy water." He used his free hand to slosh the remains of the flask over his 'brother', Sam groaning as steamed off of him. "Now, I'm gonna give you 10 seconds to tell me who the hell you are, or I'm gonna send you with a one way ticket to purgatory."

"Dean, it's me… It's me I swear-"

Dean drew a line of blood on his stubbled throat.

"Okay-okay! If I really wasn't Sam, then how would I know that when you were 8 you had a crush on Tinkerbell… Uh, in 99' you stole a poster of Sandy Olsson from a gift shop in Lake Tahoe, and you begged Dad for Batman bedsheets until you were 15." Dean was listening at this point. "On your first solo hunt you wrecked the Impala leaving the motel 6, you always keep an emergency Kitkat bar under your pillow and you hide your condoms in the loose seams on the front seat…"

"And why should I believe you? Last time I saw you, you dived into Hell!"

"I did, I was there… I mean I was there up until a month ago, I don't remember anything, but something happened to me in that Cage. I'm not even fully sure I'm still human, but Dean I will still always be your brother."

"Then why did you run from me? Lure me out here where nobody could hear?"

"Because like you always do Dean, I knew you were going to cause a scene… I wasn't about to have you pour a salt and holy water cocktail down my throat in front of Denny's Pizza Parlor."

"Then why now, huh? Tell me that, also why you're in Indiana of all places and see me of all things?!"

"Honestly, I was trying to avoid you." That hurt. "I came to find you as soon as I woke up in that field, but you had everything Dean, you finally had what you wanted."

"No, what I wanted was my brother!"

" You wanted a family. You have for a long time, maybe the whole time. I know you. You only gave it up because of the way we lived. But you had something, and you were building something. Had I shown up, Dean, you would have just run off. I'm sorry. But it felt like after everything, you deserve some regular life.."

"Well then you're fucking stupid Sam because you're my brother and if you truly are alive now there's no way I would go back to pretending you're gone. I went through twelve months of shit without you, hell if I'm gonna spend the rest of my life pretending you're dead."

"Dean, I was dead…. And someone, something pulled me out and all I remember is waking up in that cemetery under a cross. I don't know why, and I don't know what happened in the Cage, or how I got out, all I do know is that…." His expression dropped, Sam's greenish hazel eyes softening and clouding with tears. "It's really good to see you, despite the circumstances." He gazed to the silver blade still threatening to slice his jugular.

Dean followed his gaze, and found the reflected red blood on the silver knife. Not a shapeshifter, skinwalker or a ghoul. "Sammy?" Dean choked on his brother's name.

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you."

"You look older."

"You look fatter."

The right side of Dean's brain was pressing to finish the job, the left side yearning for the Sam he had believed dead for twelve months, his all familiar sass causing him to chuckle. Pushing aside his common sense, Dean tossed the blade into the gravel and embraced his brother.

Sam helped walk Dean back to his truck after the two had collected themselves and trudged back into town, the two of them equally soaked with holy water. The small talk was awkward, Dean's fingers were still tingling and numb from adrenaline as they passed the Fairground Inn. "So it was all just a freak accident?"

"That's right, security footage confirmed it. No foul play, no hex bags, nothing."

"Jeez, one minute you're looking for your kid's Halloween costume and next you're living Final Destination." Dean pressed the key on the automated lock, the Ford whistling in return.

"Holy crap, what is that thing?"

"Rich on oil, noisy and cheap." Dean gave Sam a tight smile, tossing the duffle into the bed. "Need a ride?"

"Nah, I got my own, thanks."

"Uh, what happened to Dad's car?"

"Still got it, wasn't really home without… Well, you know."

Sam could see his cheeks flush under the layers of freckles, shrugging off the awkward talk. The two stood in silence for a moment, both swaying on their feet and finding something else to focus on.

"So uh… You gonna in town much longer?"

"Don't know, not really on a schedule. I find a case, I follow it."

"Sam Winchester—Back from Hell and already on the job again." Dean mused, an undertone of jealousy grabbing Sam's attention.

"It's really not that great, but it's what I'm still good at."

" _Well if you ever need a hand…."_ Dean's swallowed the words before Sam could berate him again, "You keep in touch. Answer your damn phone, too."

"Right. Well, I'll let you know where I'm staying at next, it was really good to see you, Dean."

"You too."

They attempted a hug for .02 seconds, immediately backing off and brushing their shoulders awkwardly, and Dean scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I should probably…"

"Yeah. See you around, Dean." Sam smirked as he backed down the sidewalk.

Dean smiled to himself, concerned that it was too forced. His brother was back from Hell, very much alive and very much still his brother no matter how different he seemed, it was the missing piece to his puzzle. So why did it feel so strange? His stubbornness however wouldn't allow them to part on such awkward terms…

"Hey!" He called out, "Why don't you stick around for a day or two, tomorrow we could go out for drinks?"

"Sure." They both shared an equally genuine smile.

"See ya later…. Bitch."

Sam shook his head of shaggy hair, beaming back to dean. "Jerk."

Dean sighed in the best relief he had felt in months, sliding into the sun-warmed drivers seat and laying his head back. His brother, his Sam was finally home. It was definitely a good morning. He gazed over to his phone to check the time, a text message appearing on the home screen along with 6 missed calls from his old lady.

 **Dean, Harvey says if you're not at the site in 2 minutes, you're fired.**

Sent thirty minutes ago.

"Shit."


End file.
